The Whispering of a Beastly Heart
by MarigoldCarmen
Summary: Arthur has the face of a monster but a heart of gold. Can the gruff and arrogant hunter Gilbert lift his curse or will he break his heart? A hopefully original twist on Beauty and the Beast. AU, M/M, Death of only secondary characters .
1. Chapter 1

Hello, this is my first ever story so Im kinda having kittens right about now (I really hope people know what that means...)Anyway, I won't talk much theres just some stuff I should go over.

Fisrt this is a prologue to the actual story, and the reason I didn't give any of these characters names is because they will probaly never pop up again in this story.

Second Im sorry if my grammar, spelling etc, is atrocious. I'm not great at that kinda stuff, the last proper english I did was GCSE and that was a near fail.

Thirdly Ive rated this M to be safe, you probaly won't get any "Hanky Panky" in this one, and if you do it will be done tastefully.

Disclaimer: (For all chapters) I have disclaimed. ¬.¬

* * *

Once upon a time many years ago, in a land of enchanted wonders and dark magic, there lived a young girl of just thirteen summers. Her hair was similar to spun gold and her eyes a brilliant shade of chartreuse. So cherished and adored was she by the people of her village, a small bucolic commune settled between rolling hills to the North and a thick Pine Forest to the South, that it was believed she was gifted to them by angels. It was a known truth to the village that the only thing more captivating than her beauty was her heart, for she had nothing but love to give.

However, two summers pasted and the girl began to despair, because for all the love she possessed, she had not found the soul for which she could bestow her heart upon. The season after her birth had been harsh and very few children had survived Mother Earth's cold and brutal winter, leaving sorrowful fathers that had grown to be old men with stories to tell to inhabit the village, along with the still youthful boys of few summers age racing by and making mischief. The girl, being a romantic and of endless optimism would not marry for anything but love, for she would wait forever if that was her fate, and wait she did.

Another three summers gone and a great sadness had settled over the villagers, the girl was slowly loosing hope. However, she was unaware of what fate had hidden from her, until one wet and rainy day during her eighteenth year. A traveller, journeying through English countryside, with no home behind him and no destination in mind, stumbled into the little village. Handsome, was he, tall with muscles that speak of hard work in fields and tanned skin that betrays long days in the sun, murky blond hair and huge eyebrows frame kind hazel eyes. One glance at the beauty of the girl and time to know her kindness was all it took to fall in love with her, and as she learnt of his strong heart and joyful soul she fell for him in return. The village rejoiced in their union and the jovial mood lasted for many days and many nights.

So outstandingly happy was the newly bonded couple that they failed to notice that the poisonous and vile sin of envy had infected an inhabitant of the village, a young witch, though unknown to most, was harbouring those most deadly of sins. Lust and greed burned within her whilst her desire for the traveller grew, but at the same time her mind was corroded by the envy she felt towards the girl, slowly turning her heart black as thoughts of death and revenge tainted her soul. Wrath surpassed the repugnant emotion she felt towards the man as fury enveloped her thoughts. Therefore, when the unsuspecting couple announced that the girl, now a woman, was with child the sorceress felt nothing but ire and resentment towards their happiness.

Enraged the witch slipped into the young family's cottage at nightfall and hauled the expectant mother out of her home and through the Pine Forest, it was said that a man lived in the woods, a man of many sins cut off from other life. The witch knew this to be true and didn't want to alert him to her presence; therefor she used her hand to muffle the girl's useless cries, eventually she arrived at a clearing. The young woman, fearing for her life and that of her unborn child, recoiled and cowered before the maddened sorceress; for she could sense the power the woman standing above her held and she understood she was not to be trifled with. The air around the witch crackles and popped with energy as she glowered down at the trembling woman, then in one smooth motion she withdrew a small encrusted dagger and raised it above the women's swollen abdomen. The girl screamed, thinking these to be her last moments, as the witch slashed through the front of her scratchy cotton gown. Then, seizing a small lizard from the grasses below her feet and grasping it in her hands as it tried to struggle free, the sorceress turned it over in her palm as she sliced a line down its underside, scarlet blood spurted across her palm and streamed down her forearm, staining her robe the colour of death as she out held the dead reptile over the girls protruding belly. Four times the blood did fall, four small droplets of crimson liquid landed upon taught ivory skin as the witch cursed the innocent child within and the mother who gave it life.

Her words held power and malicious intent, cursing a forlorn and wretched life upon the woman's unborn baby, with no end to the child's suffering and no love to comfort in dark times, with only one small ray of hope. However the sorceress was not troubled by this, there must be light and dark, without one the other cannot exist; this is true even with sorcery. The sorceress could not wield so much darkness towards the unborn child without bestowing a small amount of light, a way to break the curse, but the chance that this child could determine how was minute and nothing to be anxious about. For the witch did not plan to tell the child, nor did she plan to leave its parents alive long enough to covey the information. Once her purpose there was complete she turned heel and left, stalking further into the forest, the lurking shadows and the wavering trees swallowing her silhouette until she was gone, leaving the girl alone.

The young mother to-be stumbled through the forest in the direction of the village, trembling and flinching at every shadow and noise in the undergrowth, finally making it back to the commune and falling straight into her frenzied husbands arms, for when he had awoken to find her gone her had gone into near hysterics. He was told of what had transpired in the woods and, naturally, was furious. Search parties were sent out to hunt down the sorceress but she had fled the village. As time went by the curse was forgotten by the couple, too caught up in the glee of expecting a child and soon the day for the cursed child to be born was upon them.

The birthing helpers scream was the first reminder of the curse for the new mother, horror stricken by the new-born child she recoiled, however the mother demanded to lay eyes on and hold her child. She was given the child by the unwilling helper and howled in despair upon seeing the child's face. The child, a boy, resembled a reptile. The mother cried for her child as her husband held her. Repulsed, but not hateful toward the child, the parents decided to raise the boy, for although his appearance was unsightly they still had room in their hearts for him. Alas the villagers thought gravely of this child, believing him to be a demon and an omen of misfortune. In response to their cruel ways the boy's parents forbade him from leaving the safety of their home, and an agreement was made, the villages still loved and cared for the couple so they would ignore the child and leave him in peace however the boy was never to be seen outside the cottage.

All was well for four summers until the boy's mother became ill, an unknown disease that took a hold of her body rapidly. On the first day she was confined to bed, fevers making her shake and sweat, the second day bile and vomit sapped her strength and left her weakened even more so and susceptible to the fever. The third day left her lips and chin red as roses, blood splattering the bed sheets and pillows. Finally on the fourth day she slept. Never too awaken. Next it was the boy's father, to deeply lost in his misery and pain to fully understand what he was leaving behind, loving her so deeply then losing her so suddenly drove him insane, so much so that a rope and a short walk to the outskirts of the forest was all he could do to cope with her leaving. The boy's father was brought back sleeping, never to wake up.

The villages, ignorant in their ways, accused the son of bring misfortune to the family. Chased was he from his home and everything he knew, into the Pine Forest, running as fast as his small little legs could carry him tears blurring his sight and fear poisoning his veins. He tripped only to force himself up again.

After running for many minuets the boy came across a small wooden cabin. The exhausted child stumbled up to the door, and pushes it open, warmth surges out and envelops him in a blanket of heat. Within the cabin is an old man of many, many summers, he sits in his chair in front of the fire and watches. He watches as the boy stubbles in, looking half delirious and collapses on the bundle of blankets in the corner of the rom, instantly falling asleep.

It was never discussed nor talked about, but there was a mutual understanding and trust that the old man would care for the young boy. Just six summers pasted, and then, one quiet morning another of the boys loved ones never woke up. So the boy, now of ten summers, digs a small grave in the forest and buries the old man, placing wild flowers on his grave and crying until no more tears remain.

He understands that he is alone now, but that is alright for he has learnt how to live by himself. He knows how to live off the land what he needs to do to survive. What he doesn't know is who will save him from his nightmares, who will wipe away his tears and who will hold him when he is sad. For the small boy has terrible nightmares, ones of a woman screaming and another woman with red hands, nightmares of darkness and light and curses. Little Arthur Kirkland knows he's different, little Arthur Kirkland knows he's a monster, little Arthur Kirkland knows he needs to change but what little Arthur Kirkland doesn't know, is how?

* * *

_"A monster this child shall be from birth, Lonesome from loved ones returned to earth, To Sickness, insanity, and age they sleep, For all of time his heart shall weep, Prey to loneliness but not to time, Until two hearts of conflict entwine, To love someone ugly inside as he out, To have love returned without a doubt , For curse to be broken proof must be shown, True loves kiss shall let it be known, Monstrous form shall take heed and leave, In its stead eternity both shall receive"_

* * *

Please review. If theres anything you can tell me to improve on and if you think I should finish this.

Also the whole thing won't be written like this, I was aiming for a fairytale effect for the background story bit but I think it got fairly annoying. Oppinions?

Thanks


	2. Chapter 2

Hello again, sorry it to a lot longer than I would have liked to update but life gets in the way. In fact I wrote all of Arthur's bit during overtime at work :)

Thankyou for the reviews! You guys are Awesome with a capital A :)

Anyway this is mostly introducing Arthur and Gilbert and going through some stuff relative to the story line. More interaction between the to in the next chapter.

Once again my spelling and grammar may be quite bad so I apologize in advance.

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

* * *

Stealthily and silently the hunter moved through the undergrowth, reading the woodland around him like the pages of his beloved books that he often loses himself in. Fingering a snapped branch he lifts his head high, a forked tongue sneaking out from between green hued lips flickers, tasting the air, warm golden eyes shifted and roved around the forest searching for other signs that his prey was nearby. Vaulting up and over the bush he was hiding behind the hunter dashes quickly, but quietly, over to a small clearing and positions himself behind the thick trunk of a pine tree, shuffling so he can peer around the rough bark he sizes up the animal occupying the small glade.

Grazing unawares on lush grass is young Red Deer hart, his antlers are of very few points and still covered in the downy velvet skin betraying its age yet its body is strong and powerful. The hunter slowly draws a crude handmade arrow from his quiver and aims it at the majestic beast, determined eyes blink once, twice and the arrow is released, flying straight and true, the perfect shot, or it would have been, if not for the small 'wild' boar that came charging in from beneath the undergrowth at the last second, startling the hart and causing the arrow to miss and embed itself in a low hanging branch of a tree not 15 feet behind its intended target.

Both beasts, now recognising the danger of the hunter, quickly flee the glade, the hart galloping gracefully over the boar and away into the forest, the hog itself darting carelessly back into the shrubbery.

"Bugger!" Arthur sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He had been out hunting for a large portion of the day and the sun had made its way across to the west sky. That was the only pure animal larger than a hare that he had seen in weeks, it had been so long since he had eaten beef of any kind, deer, cattle or otherwise, too long in his opinion. The young hart had been perfect game, and then that rotten pig had to scare it off! Damn. He blew some hair out of his eyes with a puff, "O well, I would have felt guilty later anyway…" he murmured to himself as her ambled over to retract his arrow from the tree branch, he removed his bow and quiver and placed them on the ground before sitting down, rather ungracefully, himself and gazing out into the forest, one hefty brow raised slightly, as if to question the trees themselves, it wasn't often that one of the wild animals of the forest got spooked, and it normally meant trouble.

Arthur glanced down at the dead animals hanging from his belt, the prize for a days' hunting was getting worse, two pheasants and a rather measly rabbit was all he had been able to catch, a petty whine bubbled from his throat before he could stop it, the small kill means he will have to go out hunting again tomorrow. Arthur hated hunting for sport with a passion and only allowed himself to hunt out of need, he couldn't live off berries and wild mushrooms, and he needed meat to give him strength, unfortunately it was quite the challenge trying to hunt in his forest, even the most skilled huntsman would be left disappointed.

It wasn't that there was a lack of prey, no there was an abundance of birds, beasts and other hunting game. No, it was the form of beasts that inhabited the forest that hindered Arthur's hunting.

'Wild' animals and monsters ruled around these parts and any fool who thinks they can hunt in this forest is obviously not from around this area. 'Wild' is what the people in the local villages and Arthur call the infected beasts, and 'pure' is the name given to normal animals. These 'wild' beasts were once peaceful creatures, then, no more than twenty summers ago, an unknown and vicious monster arrived in the woods, claiming territory quickly and ruthlessly, it was said by villagers that the beast resembled a snake, though that description could have been confused with another, older rumour.

Personally, Arthur didn't believe that, but then he had never crossed paths with it either, so he was not to know for certain, what he did know was that it killed with poison and left mangled, half eaten carcasses around the woods, he himself having the displeasure of stumbling across quite a few when it first moved in. The leftover meat was scavenged by various different inhabitants of the forest; unfortunately the poison was passed on via consumption to the scavenging animals with dire consequences, the scavengers did not die however they went mad, animals turned rabid and their instincts were overridden with the desire to hunt and kill, even the small herbivorous creatures turned cannibalistic when infected. Slowly the amount grew as the poison was passed in other ways, through the saliva of a bite into the blood stream and via mating (although the offspring of 'wild' animals are born 'wild' the mothers normally eat the young, so very few survive). Eventually the original beast died, presumably it was taken by time, but the secondary infected animals continued to live and infect other creatures over time.

Arthur found out the hard way that the effect of the poison was muted if ingested from a secondary infected animal, he won't hunt them for meat ever again, not unless he wishes to experience intense fevers and sickness once more, which he does not.

As for the 'monsters', well, it would take a mad man to hunt one of those demons. Sharp teeth, razor like claws, spitting acid and breathing fire had quickly cured Arthur of any curiosities he had about studying them. 'Although' he mused 'others think I'm a monster…'.Shaking his head to rid himself of useless thoughts Arthur checked his belt again to secure his kills, seized his bow and threw it over his shoulder whilst moving to stand up, he then bent back down and grabbed his quiver setting off in the direction of his cabin, thoughts returning to the 'wild' boar. It had been scared when it interrupted his hunt, fear had been evident in its eyes and behaviour, 'It didn't even acknowledge the hart' he recalled, 'to spook a 'wild' boar, that's not an easy feat. What sort of beast could be the cause?' Arthur shivered, if something that evil was in the forest he didn't want to know, hopefully the stench of magic will keep it away from his cabin.

Over the years he had had a lot of time to study and perfect his magic he had surprising discovered one evening. He had been in his cabin, freezing slowly during one of Mother Nature's more vicious winters, trying in vain to light a fire using to sharp pieces of flint he had found outside and some dried out wood. Arthur, still just a boy, had been growing frustrated, his control on his emotions was fraying badly but just as he was reaching his limit an unusual feeling washed over his skin, prickling and pinching, and then something in his mind pulled. Within moments a small fire had crackled to life amongst the leaves and branches in the fireplace. After that the small boy had been so stunned and scared that he had immediately ran outside, after time to calm down and processes his young self had decided that magic could make his life substantially better.

He never really understood _why _he could perform magic, he just _could_, and he presumed it had a connection with his appearance since he was fairly certain that neither of his parents possessed the gift. He had gotten quite good as well, as expected since he had roughly thirty seven summers of practice.

"Thirty seven summers" Arthur spoke quietly "has it really been that long?"

The sturdy wooden door swung inwards as Arthur slumped forward into his home, unclipping his prize and casting it down on to the rickety old table in passing causing a few tin pots and a small clay bowl to wobble. He made his way over to the far wall, picking up an armful of timber and throwing them down and into the fireplace, as he wandered over to the table once again he waved a hand back towards the unlit logs absentmindedly, drawing a small amount of his will forth and commanding the air around the wood to vibrate and hum, soon there was the sound of crackling as a small fire burst into life.

He grabbed at a knife hanging from the wall and turned as something in the corner of his eye moved, fortunately it was not an animal or intruder, unfortunately Arthur came face to face with himself. His reflection stared back through the small broken mirror hanging on the cabins wall.

Arthur had found the mirror and several books scattered along the edge of the forest a few summers ago, an over turned cart had not been but a few paces away. He had checked to see if anyone as around before snatching up a small collection of five books and some slightly stale bread that he found in the cart itself, as he was about to leave the mirror had caught his eye. It was quite beautiful, a woman's hand held mirror if he guessed correctly, delicate and intricate swirling designs had been etched across the back and the handle making the silver almost dance in the sunlight, its reflective surface had a small crack but he wasn't bothered, Arthur had quickly seized it along with his other finds and swiftly left the edge of the forest for the safe cover of the trees. When he had returned home he had strung the mirror upside down on the wall.

Now Arthur turned to gaze at himself, it had been awhile since he had fully seen his reflection due to the small cloth he normally keeps draped over the reflective surface, and now, as before, it made him cringe. Wide golden amber eyes blinked back at him, overall he didn't mind his eyes, they were fairly normal, a little larger than a mans should be in his opinion but they didn't bulge out of his skull or glow in the dark, the only thing strange about them was that they were an inhuman gold colour and his pupils were long and narrow. Arthur frowned; furrowing two large black eyebrows then rolled his eyes, typical that he would still have inherited his father's eyebrows, even with his strange appearance. He quirked a small smile at the thought, revealing the tip of his small left fang, and his rare smile immediately vanished. Small green iridescent scales covered a good proportion of his face, along the line of his nose and up between his brows creating a diamond shape on his forehead, the scales move from under his eyes and down the sides of his neck to run along his shoulders. In the absence of scales a thick green skin covered his body, not tough enough to be leather yet not soft and supple enough to be human skin. Dark ash blond hair sat atop his head, wild and unkempt.

Arthur knew that the scales continued underneath his cloths, only relenting on his belly, under the length of his arms and down the backs of his legs. He raised a scaly hand, huffing to himself, and then hissing when he accidently scratches himself with his claws.

He no longer hated his appearance; he had accepted his fate long ago and had come to the conclusion that he was cursed. It made sense, it explained why he resembled a reptile while his parents were perfectly normal individuals, it explained why no matter how much time passes he still remains in the body of a boy of nineteen summers and it explained his nightmares, the ones with blood and chanting, chanting the same words every time but he can never remember what when he wakes.

"It's infuriating!" Arthur sighs again -it seems to have become something of a habit- and finally moves to the table deciding to cook up rabbit and wild mushroom soup, or at least something that vaguely resembled the dish in taste.

As he began to skin the rabbit his thoughts, once again, drifted to what had scarred the boar. What was it that frightened it so much? What did it look like? And what was it doing in his forest? 'What indeed…'

* * *

Little did Arthur know that the answer to his questions was stumbling quite ungracefully towards his cabin, leaving a stream of gruff curses and dripping water in his wake.

* * *

"SCHEIS-!" Gilberts curse was abruptly cut off as his face met the dirt rather painfully. Today was turning out to not be his day, in a really big way. All he had wanted to do was hunt then set up camp, but no, the spirits had other plans for him apparently. He had been travelling for about seven days without much rest so his nerves were fairly fraught, therefor Gilbert thought he should hunt small, some rabbit or boar or something, not that he couldn't take down predators and big game but he just really didn't have the strength. But like he said, some higher deity had it out for him and was hell bent on making his life as bad as damn possible.

First there was that _fucking BEAR _that came out of nowhere, and not just your normal everyday run of the mill bear either, no Gilbert could have dealt with a normal one. No, this one was _freaking rabid!_ Foaming at the mouth, rolling eyes, ramming itself into a tree kind of rabid. So when it turned it beady white eyes on Gilbert he did the only thing he could think of, he ran. Which would have been a good idea, if, that is, he was actually watching where he was going. As it happens Gilbert was not even looking in the direction he was running but rather back at the two tone rabid, and most likely hungry, bear that was pounding after him, unfortunately this meant that he didn't even see the almost vertical decline before he went pelting off it at impressive speeds. When Gilbert finally reached the bottom and pealed himself off the forest floor he discovered that he had sprained his wright wrist on the way down, making it impossible to use his daggers or bow, he had also gained a rather large gash in the side of his leg meaning that walking just got a whole lot tougher.

Then he came across another rabid animal, this time a young boar, at first it had tried to charge not sensing the dangerous aura surrounding its opponent, unfortunately for the boar Gilberts naturally short patience was just about to snap, so he did what only a crazy man would do, he ran head first at the charging boar, bellowing loudly and waving his arms around like a spastic gibbon. However crazy his method was it surprisingly worked, as the boar turned tail and went squealing off in the opposite direction. A triumphant smirk had wormed its way across Gilberts face as he turned around and sauntered -as much as a man with a busted leg can- away to his left, once again not really paying attention to just were it was he was walking, or rather what he was walking through, which in this case happened to be poison ivy. Just a few minutes later the smug smile had vanished, an irritable frown now in its place.

Still, though, fate had yet to be finished with Gilbert. He had found a river and was kneeling down on the bank to drink when it happened; the wet soil under his knees gave way, effectively sliding Gilbert headfirst into the frigid ice water. Floundering his arms and legs he broke the surface taking deep gulps of air to fill his lungs. Miserably he dragged himself out onto the opposite bank, spluttering and shivering, and slowly stood starting to trudge in a random direction again.

That had been hours ago now and the stars were all out in the night sky alongside the moon. Gilbert grumbled to himself lowly. Back in his home town he was a renowned hunter and a feared warrior, nothing and no one could better him, but recent events had thrown his mind into chaos and his heart into darkness with betrayal and lust for revenge. He didn't know how to read this forest, the desolate woods he walked within now were so very different from the thriving hunting ground at home… 'No. It's not home now, not anymore.' Gilbert growled lowly at the unwanted thoughts then sighed, he was getting tired and he wasn't sure if he could hold on much longer.

Gilbert squinted as something caught his eye in the darkness, a soft light coming from just beyond a line of trees. He was panting from exertion now and slightly delirious from lack of food and water, therefore he wasn't really thinking straight as he stumbled blindly toward the light, he didn't think of the danger that could be awaiting him. As he reached the trees a small cabin came into sight, it had no windows but light poured from the slightly open doorway. Gilbert staggered forward; he could feel his mind slipping, but if he could just get to the door. He reached a hand out blindly and felt rough wood bellow his palm. The last thing he saw was the dirt ground one again rushing up to meet him as his vision grew dark and his mind numb. Then all he could feel and see was blissful darkness.

* * *

Arthur jumped and gasped as he heard a thud come from just outside his door, quickly grabbing his knife he cautiously crept forward and nudged the door towards him with his foot. His eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened at the sight that was presented to him. A man, with silver hair and pale skin that reflected the moonlight was collapsed face first at his door, from what he could see he had an injured his leg and had bathed… in his cloths? Arthur shook his head, 'How strange'. He quickly debated whether to move him and leave him in the woods or to bring him in and care for his wounds, he chewed his lip, 'On one hand if he wakes up and sees me he might panic. On the other I'd feel awful just leaving him…' he mulled over in his mind. Arthur let his eyes slip sideways to the man once more before sighing and grasping the man under his arms so as to unceremoniously drag him over to Arthur's bed and dump the stranger upon it.

"I hope you appreciate this." He grumbled quietly before getting to work.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed that.

Please leave reviews and any questions you want to ask! I'l answer any I can in the authors notes.

Thankyou!


	3. Chapter 3

Look who crawled out from under her rock and rejoined the rest of the world! I'm so sorry it's so late! I swear I had every intention to update this every Friday but you know what they say, 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions' :( But Thank you for all the faves and reviews. Love love love you all.

Anyway I'm now starting UNI so updates will be sparse but I will try my best to not wait so long in between updates.

I Thinks that's all...

Oh! And the beautiful song is Night after Night by Laura Marling. I though the lyrics fit well.

Disclaimer: I Disclaim.

* * *

_"…what it is that you gave_

_We dance the sorrow, Forgive me tomorrow, I pray _

_Night after night, day after day, Would you watch my body weaken, My mind drift away?_

_Dear lover forsaken, Our love is taken away, You were my speaker, My innocence keeper, I don't…"_

Gilbert's mind stirred, a slow melancholy tune breaching its way through his unconsciousness, rousing him gently from a deep slumber. Every so often he caught snippets of the sung words.

Lonely. That was how he would describe the melody. Lonesome, forlorn, downright _empty._

A small uncomfortable feeling arose in his chest and Gilbert shifted, groaning slightly.

The singing promptly stopped and Gilbert stilled as to not draw attention to his recent state of wakefulness. He hadn't registered the feeling of a cool, damp cloth caressing his face until it was snatched away, so Gilbert relaxed his face as he feigned sleep, thoughtlessly hoping that the gentle caress and low signing would return. He was not left disappointed, as slowly a soft, light hum began that cautiously gained words and became singing once again.

_"I count no one, hold nobody's ear, I sold you my hand once and you hit me in fear, I don't stand for the devil, I don't whisper in ears, I stand on the mountains and call people to hear_

_It's a sudden burst of light, It's a fate foretold , It is knowing, it…"_

It wasn't the prettiest signing that Gilbert had ever heard; it was neither the light, soprano of a woman or the deep, smooth tenor of a man. The voice seem somewhere between, it wasn't particularly deep but it was rough and sounded underused. However, despite the coarse vocals, the tone was pleasant and warm, the timbre soft and quiet despite the occasional cracking.

Slowly he felt his mind drift back to happier times. Of a place with smiling people to come home to, he doubted that he would ever get that again, but in his dreams he could, in his dreams they were _beaming_ at him. He could see a tall, blond, gruff looking man with a small soft smile gracing his features, vastly contrasting with his harsh appearance, and an excitable little brunette bouncing around the blond and waving happily over at him. Another seemingly strong man with long blond hair roughly braided down his back and a tall elegant woman leaning into his side smiled lovingly at him. Friends surrounded him as a beautiful woman practically danced towards him smiling sweetly, long brunette hair shimmering in the sunlight and billowing out behind her as the green dress she wore swayed around her legs.

Everything was so simple then, so beautiful.

Before he ruined it…

'NO! It wasn't his fault, _she _ruined it, it was _her_…' Everything was good until that sweet smile, _her _smile, turned his love to ash and his heart to stone.

Gilbert frowned and mumbled in his sleep. Before falling into a slumber so deep even the memories and dreams couldn't reach him, only the roughly sung words of his lonesome carer echoing through his mind.

_"…after night, day after day, Could you watch my body weaken, And my mind drift away?_

_It's a tempting communion, It's a fate foretold, It is knowing, it is knowing, What it is that you're told"_

* * *

"Elizaveta…" Arthur raised a thick brow, the injured man had been mumbling for quite some time now, names and the occasional foreign curse had accompanied his singing and then had continued to fill the silence when Arthur's songs had stopped.

Arthur had discovered, via his patients unconscious ramblings, that the man had what he presumed to be a very thick German accent, this was further proven by the names his mysterious guest had slurred on occasion, 'Ludwig', 'Vati', 'Roderich' and the recently murmured 'Elizaveta' all sounded like Germanic names to Arthur, not that he would actually be able to distinguish any specific differences between foreign languages since he hadn't had anyone about to teach him.

Contrary to what he had thought he would feel, Arthur had found that he quite liked having the sleeping man around, he had been in his cabin for around three nights now and had yet to properly wake up, but during the time Arthur had constantly found himself chatting and, _perish the thought_, singing to the man while he tended to his wounds. He had remembered some of the songs his mother and father had taught him so long ago, but it seemed he only remembered the woeful and none of the happy. Arthur had smiled bitterly when he had found himself singing a lonesome tune while he rebandaged the man's leg, but it seemed to calm his strange guest so he had continued.

However he had quickly hushed himself and flinched backwards when the prone man had quietly stirred, if Arthur was certain of anything, it was that awakening in an unknown place to a strange lizard man singing to you was probably not good for the heart, and it would be a shame if his patient died of fright after all the effort he had put in to return him to full health.

The silver haired man had recently become restless and it would seem that wakefulness was not far away, honestly, Arthur was nervous as to how he would react. The only people that had seen Arthur, apart from his parents, had branded him a demon and a monster. He didn't, and couldn't, imagine it going much better this time.

Slowly and carefully rising from his creaky wooden stool he turned to make his way over to the small rickety table. Unfortunately the transition from stool to table wasn't quite as smooth as Arthur would have liked, as he turned his foot connected with a small bowl of water he had placed on the ground to wash the bed stricken man's face.

For Arthur it seemed to happen in slow motion, his foot slipped and his arms shot out desperately searching for something to grab on to in a hopes to stop his decent, but to no avail, he franticly waved his arms around, perhaps in a vain attempt at flight, but alas, Arthur did not miraculously sprout feathers and fly away from what was, undoubtedly, about to become a disaster. Instead he was still stuck with his lizard scales and short, unwanted, utterly useless, stubby tail. All of which promptly succumbed to gravity and ungraciously collapsed onto the previously sleeping man with an indignant squawk.

Arthur's head landed squarely on a warm solid chest, he slowly, cautiously raised his head, bright amber eyes staring into startling crimson ones. Arthur watched as fear flashes across that ruby gaze before quickly being replaced by disgust and anger. The albinos face suddenly morphed into an enraged grimace ad Arthur barely had time to feel hurt or distressed before two large hands collided with his shoulders sending his flying backwards, his head coming in contact with the corner of the table.

Arthur's world slowly tuned dark and fuzzy. His last thought being that this mysterious, presumably German, man was the same as all he others. He gently fell into unconsciousness, silently chiding his previous thoughts he had during his time caring for the man. That maybe the stranger wouldn't be repulsed, that he would be accepted and that maybe he wouldn't be so lonely anymore.

'What was I thinking…'

* * *

Gilbert had a rather rude awakening. He was quite happily lost in his dream world when suddenly BAM! Something heavy tries to flatten him. Breathless and fairly dazed he shakily propped himself up on this elbows and raised his head, only to find himself gazing into large amber eyes, it took Gilbert a moment to realise that the weight pushing down on his chest was another body.

Between his confusion and limited sight due to close proximity, his mind filled in what he couldn't see, conjuring up a hideous monster in place of the actual presence above him, fear coursed through his veins that was quickly replaced by somewhat misdirected rage at the creature, he channelled his feeling of anger into physical strength and gave a great shove at the monster, effectively sending it flying off him and _purposefully _knocking it out, because he meant to do that, really.

Gilbert brazenly jumped out of the bed, discarding the thick cloth and furs he was swaddled in on the floor, wincing slightly as the jostled his wounds and hobbled over to the prone figure splayed out on the floor. He edged closer, nudging the creature with his foot harshly as he moved, after a prominent lack of reaction Gilbert seized the chance to get a better look at the man (at least he assumes so). What he had thought to be a beast was actually just a very scally man. Well, he says 'just' but it's still plenty strange.

'What to do...' He probably shouldn't just leave him lying there, this man-lizard-thing had obviously cared for him, but on the other hand he just wanted to gather himself back into the blankets and sleep. He through a sideways glance at the lizard man, he shared a bed with worse…

Gilbert huffed, whining childishly for a moment before grudgingly moving over to his scaly carer and pulling him via his ankles over to the bed before hefting the limp body on to the bed none too delicately. He gasped slightly as he strained a slowly healing gash on his back whilst bending down to retrieve the blankets and furs, he threw them onto the bed, covering the smaller male before slipping under them himself. Then, making sure there was a fairly good distance between him and the lizard man, he slowly let sleep take him.

* * *

I wasn't sure how Gilbert should have reacted to Arthur, I wanted him to be selfish and arrogant but also quite accepting... In the end I just decided that he is too tired too care ATM :D

BTW I know Vati isn't a German name but Arthur doesn't know that.

FF keeps trying to change my proper English spelling in to American spelling :(

Thank you. Reviews make the world go round.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! I'm not really sure I like this chapter all that much, I just feel that it's all a bit wishy-washy. Please review your opinion on it.

PLEASE READ THIS BIT!

The first person to guess the movie I nicked this line from:

**"Isn't there someone else you can go and annoy? Friends? Family? Poisonous reptiles?"**

Gets to choose which story/fairytale I do next (That is if anyone cares), the choices are:

Swan Princess- America/Japan

The Girl Without Hands- Denmark/Norway

The Frog Prince- France/Canada

Please put your answer in a review because 'I'm not sure how to check mail on this site yet.

Those aren't the Fic names. All the stories will have a unique and original twist and I will post up the full descriptions on my page. Also these are only three of the ten I have planned out.

Thankyou :] Oh and translations at end of chapter etc.

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

* * *

"Hmmmm…" Arthur grunted, letting his consciousness slowly return to him albeit reluctantly, stretching up in an attempt to rid himself of the stiffness in his muscles, or at least he tried too, however he found his movement thwarted by a large unidentifiable mass pressing down on his left side. Sharply he turned his head only to find his vision invaded with a messy mop of bright white hair and the peacefully calm face of his albino charge. _Wait, what?_

Arthur shrieked loudly as he all but flew off of the small cot, his back landing painfully on the hard cabin floor as his legs stayed elevated, tangled in the blankets and furs. An annoyed grunt was made by the previously sleeping man on the bed, as his crimson eyes peeked over the side of the bed.

"Wha-…_What_ do you _think_ _you're doing?_" Arthur venomously spat out his face red and set in an angry scowl whist flailing around, trying desperately to untangle his legs and regain some semblance of dignity, not that he had much left at this point.

He saw the corner of the man's mouth twitch as he tried to keep a straight face, "Well I _was _sleeping."

"That isn't what I meant you bloody pillock. _What are you doing in my bed?_"

"Calm down, I had to lug you into the bed after you managed to knock yourself out, alright _Scales_?"

Arthur's amber eyes widened with realisation and he flinched, his body unconsciously curling in on itself and slowly inching further away from where the stranger sat. He had forgotten about this man's violent reaction to his appearance before, how would he react now?

He felt himself tense and screw his eyes shut, waiting for whatever this stranger would deal out to him.

* * *

Gilbert continued to stare down at the cowering man; he looked even less threatening in the light of the day, opposed to the somewhat dim candle light they had met in the night before. He was slightly surprised by the violent change in his disposition, one moment he was furiously and confidently, screeching at Gilbert then the next he was a withdrawn and timid shaking ball on the floor. After a few moments he decided finally too speak, not wanting the man to tremble before him any longer, it was bringing back the uncomfortable feeling in his chest again and Gilbert wasn't particularly fond of the sensation.

"Hey kid, relax I'm not gunna harm you," he saw the man's shoulders tense at his voice, "you just gave me a shock last night is all."

The other man cautiously looked up, expression guarded and amber eyes still swimming with fear and apprehension. Gilbert huffed, reaching a hand behind him a rubbing the back of his neck, trying to think of something that would get the other to relax, after a good deal of time Gilbert gave up, he had been desperately trying, and failing, to think of something calming and subtle he could say or do, but 'subtle' wasn't really his forte, so he decided to wing it.

Energetically bounding off the bed to stand directly in front of the cringing man he grinned, sticking out his hand.

"You, meiner schuppigen kleiner Freund, are in the irresistible presence of Gilbert Weillschmidt the Awesome, bow before me and speak your name!" He bellowed happily. Yep, Gilbert was the _epitome _of calming and subtle.

* * *

Arthur flinched at the loud introduction, was this man dozy? Why wasn't he retreating in disgust, he had expected the man to attack him or at least run, maybe to the nearest village where they would all gather and come after him with fire and pitchforks and all that, you know, the works. But no this man, now known as 'Gilbert the Awesome', had introduced himself and had, dare he think it, expressed the desire to know about Arthur, scales and all.

Slowly and warily he reached out to take Gilberts offered hand, surprised by how much larger his were, they engulfed Arthurs completely.

"Arthur Kirkland." he whispered, a small shaky smile tickling his lips.

Gilbert smirked widely "Well Art it's your lucky day! The Awesome me needs' a place to live, and right here seems like the perfect place! So I'll be staying."

"W-what?" The man just continued to grin.

"NO!Just_ no_." Arthur felt himself scowl, nervousness being rapidly replaced by irritation, "My _name _is_ Arthur_ and just _who the hell_ said that you could stay_ here_?!" he hollered, standing and glaring up (to his chagrin) at him, who the hell did this berk think he was?

The man opposite him cocked a thin white brow, "I did, _Arthur, _and what I say goes."

"NO, you bloody git! Get out. NOW!"

A frown swept across Gilberts face for a moment, and then it was gone, replaced by a childish pout. He staggered slightly sweeping his hand over his forehead, "You wouldn't kick me out _Arthur, _I'm injured! What would I do out in the wilderness, all alone at mercy of the big bad beasties?" One ruby eye peeked at him from under scrunched up eyebrows.

Arthur levelled a bored stare at the man, "I'm sure you'll survive. Now _out_! Away with you. Shoo." He waved his scaled hands at the man then turned around making his way over to his table

He heard an indignant squawk from behind his back, "I don't have anywhere else to go!" all playfulness had left the mas voice. He turned to see a stubborn look etched onto the young man's features, yet his eyes were pleading. Arthur felt guilt rise in his stomach, like vomit just with longer and more _annoying_ consequences. He steeled his resolved and turned back again, he would not let this man take advantage of him or his loneliness.

He huffed, "Isn't there someone else you can go and annoy? Friends? Family? Poisonous reptiles?"

"No, there isn't …_tch_, I don't _need_ family_, I'm Gilbert the Awesome! _I don't _need _anyone!"

Through his bravado Arthur sensed hurt and coldness, turning once more he saw a childlike stubbornness shine through Gilberts eyes. Arthur's heart missed a beat, and then softened unwillingly. How could he even think of sending this determined and desperate young man away?

'I'm sure he's just misunderstood, just needs a friend. Underneath all that is a scared and hurt yet good, kind, sweet-'

"And you're pretty similar to a poisonous reptile as far as I can see."

'-vile, rude, obnoxious, _evil white-haired bastard_!'

Arthur turned, _yet again_; to voice his rather colourful opinion to the man who had so _tactfully_ brought up his _"condition". _However the dead serious look on the others face stopped him, how long had it been since he had seen such a resolute and passionate gaze? _'Too Long.'_

With a roll of his eyes and a resigned grumble Arthur backed down and gave in, damn him and his bleeding heart!

"Fine-"

Gilbert's eyes widened and an enormous grin broke onto his face, his mouth opened, but Arthur cut him to the chase.

"-BUT! But you pull your own weight; I'm not going to wait on you hand and foot!"

Gilbert chuckled, throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulders causing the shorter to stumble and sag slightly under the weight.

"This is gunna' be great Art!"

A sudden sinking feeling of dread hit Arthur as the realisation of just what he had agreed to sunk in, his eyes widened in horror as he stared up at the other.

'Oh Lord, _what have I done_?'

* * *

**Translations and Guides: **

Meiner schuppigen kleiner Freund: My scaly little friend

**Marigolds helpful and handy guide to English slang:**

Dozy: A way to describe some who isn't the brightest crayon in the box if you catch my drift.

Berk: Another way to say idiot, because we Brits need more colorful vocabulary to basically say "This mans a moron." every five seconds, otherwise we'ed start to sound like broken records.

Git: Originally used as an insult if one had a touch of 'The-green-eyed-monster', however it is presently also known as what is quite possibly the alarm call of the 'Wild East-England Old-Aged Pensioner', this call is frequently heard around Norfolk and Suffolk.

I hoped that helped :]

BTW I know Gilbert's personality isn't exactly showing a black heart or whatever but I never intended him to be cruel outright, its going to go deeper than that and show through in little ways, it will be more emotional that physical.

I think I'm done, notes wont all ways be this long. I'l shut up now.

Anyway please review. Thankyou. :]


	5. Chapter 5

Well lookie here, a new chapter! Which I planned on being longer.

Sorry been so very busy, and there's been a death in the family. On boxing day no less, so please be a little understanding, thanks. :)

I have got the next one written up but I still need to type it...

Anyway this is a little bit filler-y, it just sums up what Arthur's and Gilbo's life has been like since we last checked in since I don't want to waste pages writing about unimportant events, lazy I know.

Enjoy, any questions feel free to ask!

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

* * *

Surprisingly housing with Gilbert wasn't quite the living, breathing hell he had thought it would be. Contradictory to his previous thoughts the albino had made Arthur's life easy sailing as far as work was concerned, his sanity may be hanging on desperately by the metaphorical thread after a good three weeks, but physically he had never been more well rested in his life.

Gilbert's infamous ego and pride had him refusing to do 'feminine chores' meaning that the albino had been left with the more 'manly' jobs, such as collecting and chopping wood, repairing the cabin, hunting, preparing meat and, for some reason Arthur couldn't fathom, cooking. Personally he didn't think that cooking would be considered as 'manly' but no matter what he had said Gilbert had rebuffed, demanding that he cook and muttering about early graves when he thought Arthur couldn't hear him.

His pride had also complicated their sleeping arrangements, the albino had refused to give up the bed and Arthur certainly wasn't this had led to Gilbert using his annoyingly superior build and strength against him, and claiming the bed as his own, all but pissing on it to 'mark his territory'. Gilbert, however, had underestimated Arthur's obstinacy; he had thought the little lizard-man's insecurities and wariness would have prevented him from entering the bed whist the albino rested under the covers, he was wrong. The result of their conflict was three nights awkwardly lying stock still next to each other and Gilbert's new found knowledge that Arthur was the _King_ of passive-aggressive, he had said and done nothing but the continuous blood chilling glare he had directed at Gilbert was enough for Arthur to notice small beads of sweat trickle down the man's brow, he had allowed himself a small smug grin at that.

Gilbert was out hunting that morning, he had risen before the sun and prepared himself, probably hoping that the earlier he started the higher the chance of being successful, Arthur wasn't so sure. There had been even less game in the woods than normal lately, and he had a horrible feeling that it was the work of a new predator. He had found tracks near the back of the cabin, large tracks, it was the print of an animal that put a cold feeling in one's blood and a sick sensation at the back of every man's throat, Arthur had glanced down at the large claw marks gouged out of the soft earth and the almost invisible drops of blood and sincerely hoped that he would never, ever encounter the beast. He had told Gilbert immediately with the intent of warning him and telling him to be careful, to keep _safe_, however the brash man had instantly ignored Arthur's worry and had gone out to_ bloody follow_ them! Unfortunately, or fortunately for Arthur, he had little luck. Either the beast could disappear at will or it could fly, neither thought boded well for the woodland duo or the surrounding villages.

Unease seemed to loom over the towns people making them restless, Gilbert had mentioned to Arthur that on one of his short visits into town he had overheard some of the village men muttering about an unknown _thing_ stealing their livestock, what was left of the mutilated corpses had been found dumped near the forests edge, rotting and rancid. He had then sombrely retold the news of the mysteriously missing village children, presumably that had also fallen prey to the foreign beast. Even Arthur had noticed the dwindling numbers of children that played at the edges of the woods were gone. Although it worried him, there was hope left, the children remained _missing_; no small bodies had been found, yet.

The news had kept him up that night, silent tears dripping smoothly over his scaly cheeks. He had desperately tried not to wake Gilbert, hoping to never again show his weak side to the albino, but unfortunately Arthur's shuddering had done just that. The larger man had not said a thing, whether out of compassion and understanding or just because he had the emotional capacity of a rock and really didn't know how to react to a blubbering overgrown lizard, Arthur suspected the latter, but he had eventually rolled over and awkwardly wrapped his long, muscular arms around Arthur's shaking shoulders. They had stayed like that all night, Gilbert cuddling Arthur and running his hands through his hair soothingly, it was safe to say that Arthur sported an impressive blush for quite some time after. Arthur cracked a smile at that thought, for all Gilbert's bravado and arrogance the man had quite a soft side.

Arthur was swiftly pulled from his silent musings by said silvery albino charging through the door with a face like thunder, thin white brows scrunched down over angry red eyes and lips curled in to a frustrated snarl. He stomped in throwing his hunting knife away to the side letting it clatter to a stop somewhere under the bed and slumped down dramatically at the creaky wooden table causing the numerous pots Arthur had stacked upon it to wobble precariously, he thought for a moment that the trusty wooden stand might buckle under the unneeded abuse, but to his relief it stayed strong under the weight of Gilbert's wrath.

He eyed the man wearily, he really was grateful for Gilbert's company, he had all but forgotten what companionship was like until the brash man tumbled through Arthur's door, quite literally, but he was never too keen to deal with him when he was in one of his moods.

"No luck?" he questioned calmly. Gilbert's ruby red eyes swung from glaring holes through his traumatised table to glaring death through Arthur's head.

"No." he growled out through gritted teeth. Gilbert's pride and plentiful ego has been wounded, and like any other wounded animal he lashed out, all gnashing teeth and raised fur, figuratively, of course.

A few tense moments later he stood, red eyes set ahead in determination as he moved towards a discarded cloak. A snarled "I'm leaving for the village." was all he said as he departed, slamming the door closed as he stormed out.

Arthur frowned, creases of worry marring his face. It wasn't often that Gilbert let his mask slip, let it show that the walls he had built up around himself weren't as invulnerable as he liked to think they were, maybe no one else saw it but Arthur did, the bitter hurt and loneliness hidden deep behind prideful arrogance. He had noticed that the façade vanished whenever Gilbert failed at something, not so much at small, insignificant things, but at important duties such as the hunts. Rage and frustration would shine in his blood red eyes, anger so deep it was _nearly_ impossible to see the desperation and determination that hid there as well, _nearly_, but not quite.

He sighed, since when did he worry so much? There was really no need to, Gilbert was a big boy, he could take care of himself and his own problems. Huffing he turned around in his seat, continuing on with wiping out the pots he had stacked on the table.

"It's really none of my business anyway…"

Of course, the small ache in his chest said otherwise.

* * *

I'm just putting this here in case anyone else gets confused cause I know I do...

Sombrely - not a spelling mistake no matter how many times FF tells me so, it's the English spelling, opposed to the American English spelling, Somberly.

Traumatised - Once again British English, the American version is spelt (yes spelt, not spelled) with a z.

God that annoys me, I have to go through all the red lined words and check them in a dictionary (old school) just in case.

Oh! I hope the 'feminine' chores thing doesn't offend anyone, I'm a woman so I understand if it does but I'm just trying to go with the supposed time period, yano?

**And something I keep forgetting to mention,** when Gilbert says awesome, he is using the old description of it, not the new teenage "Dude that was SO sick, it was AWESOME!" version.

**The original meaning of Awesome was something that inspires awe.**

**"Extremely impressive or daunting; inspiring great admiration, apprehension, or fear" - Google Dictionary. **

Gilbert's using it in the sense of inspiring/striking fear and admiration in anyone he meets, he's very proud.

Thanks, Review?


	6. Chapter 6

Hello, I haven't given up! I've just had loads of deadlines at Uni, it's been manic,

So as always I wanted to give you more but it would be cruel to make you wait so you have a slightly shorter chapter.

There are probably mistakes since its stupid-O-clock here and I'm tired.

BTW I'm thinking of doing a Les Mis inspired story, what do you think? If you haven't seen it then you really must, it was amazing!

Disclaimer: I Disclaim

* * *

Gilbert stumbled over loose rocks and dry twigs, making no attempt to be subtle as he stumbled through the undergrowth, mind in chaos.

He had failed! He had proved them all right once again, God Dammit.

He could hear their deafening laughter ringing in his ears, feel the disappointed gazes of his family and friends, could still see the accusatory glare in those green eyes, it was burnt into the back of his skull. The heat of shame and self-loathing, something he had never felt before that particular day, still lingered under his skin.

The realisation that he had arrived at the small village, in seemingly no time at all, thrust his from his thoughts and back to the real world. Gilbert couldn't say he liked the small provincial village, quite the opposite in fact, the quaint and predictable life the townsmen had made for themselves set him on edge, clashing with his perpetually loud and spontaneous energy. However this went both ways, Gilbert fascinated them and in some cases terrified them. His strange appearance brought forth intrigue from the younger generation in the village, yet his silvery white hair and blood red eyes stirred hateful fear and distrust in the elders, their hearts withered and minds closed to anything different from themselves and their kin.

Gilbert didn't really know what they called him when his back was turned and his thoughts were elsewhere, discreet murmurings of demon blood and devils bane had found his ears on more than one occasion, but he couldn't say he honestly cared what the old coots called him.

He shivered slightly as he entered the tavern the warm air rushing over his chilled skin and making him breathe deeply in relief, then choke as the pungent smell of brew and stale sweat assaulted his senses.

It wasn't busy, a few of the small wooden tables and chairs had been pushed together in the corner and strained under the weight of several bulky men, seemingly celebrating something judging by the raucous noise they made. Joyful cheers and the banging of metal beer steins against the wooden table tops reverberated around the small room.

Gilbert cracked a grin as he sat down at the counter and watched the men stumble and slur, remembering similar ventures he and his friends used to take down to the taverns back home.

Shaking the thoughts from his already hassled mind he gazed around once more, an old man sat slightly further down to him nursing his own flask and a unwaveringly suspicious glare, the latter of which was directed solely at Gilbert. The albino sighed, hollering for the server boy to fetch him a drink, before turning towards the old goat, eyes narrowed threateningly and revealing a grin that was more a bearing of teeth that it was a smile. The elder looked down pretty sharpish, suddenly finding his drink fascinating. Trying not to laugh Gilbert turned back, nodding to the boy serving him his ale.

The young man that worked the counter had become a sort of friend and was always willing to indulge the albino in a drunken chat. Peter, the young man, reminded him of Arthur, minus the scales of course. They had the same messy hair, same great big bushy eyebrows and same big round eyes, but whereas Arthur's eyes were an enchanting gold and unmistakably reptilian, Peter's were summer sky blue.

The boy had told him that his entire family heritage was in the village, the albino had briefly wondered if he was related to Arthur in some way, a second cousin on his mother's side perhaps. However there didn't seem to be a suitable way to bring the question of if the perfectly normal, very _human _boy standing in front of him had an estranged and particularly scaly cousin lurking in the woods. So in a rare case of self-restraint Gilbert had stayed quiet.

He found himself with a lot of questions since meeting Arthur, the man was an enigma. He was strange on the outside yes, but he was equally odd on the inside as well. He didn't open up, choosing to keep his emotions locked away, only once had Gilbert seen the small man let his walls down enough to show the raw pain he felt. He never showed loneliness or happiness, fear or excitement. Anger seemed to be his default emotion so there was plenty of that, but it was a show, a mirage for an invisible audience that only his golden eyes could see. He had a soft heart, but all he was willing to show was the sharp thorns surrounding it.

Arthur confused him. It was that simple.

A Gilbert continued to down mug after mug of ale his mind started to blur along with the rest of the world, his inner thoughts and musings of his scaly landlord slowly became outer musings, drunken mumblings and then eventually loud shouts. The bemused face of Peter started to fade, clearly he didn't believe Gilbert's slurring of the affectionately named "Artie-snake", and the part of Gilbert that was still slightly sober knew this was a good thing, however the rest of Gilbert's body was drunk, this unfortunately included his mouth, which insisted on telling Peter and anyone that would listen just how "Goddamn real" Arthur was.

Neither Peter nor, unsurprisingly, Gilbert noticed the old man's beady eyes sternly set on them. The albino because at that point in time he wasn't even aware of the ground under his feet and his struggling caretaker because he was far too busy trying to lug Gilbert's dead weight up the suddenly very steep wooden steps and into one of the taverns unused rooms.

* * *

George eyed the drunken man wearily as the young Peter dragged him passed knocked over chairs and an array of broken objects. He hadn't heard wrong, the demonic looking man had known, he knew where that monster lived, talked about it like it had feelings, like it was anything more than a beast!

George was now a man of seventy years, and one of only four that still remember the small demon that was born into their village. He was a man of just twenty three summers when he first saw the child, it had crept out from the little cottage it was kept in and had started to play with two brothers of roughly the same age. He hadn't acted quick enough then, the devil had lashed out a something the young Jones boy had said. George had heard the scream as thick claws swiped bloody red lines across the young child's chest, he had lurched into action rushing forward to help the injured child as the demon had ran, presumably back to the hovel from which it came.

Shortly after that its mother fell ill, poisoned by the soul of the demon she had birthed. Then his father, driven mad by the small devil took his own life.

George had been there when they chased the demon into the forest. They had let it go, believing that if the forest monsters didn't kill it for a meal then the murderous madman that lived deep amongst the trees would.

It was left at that, the village finally able to sleep peacefully knowing that their family and friends were safe and the danger was dead and gone.

And now, years later, there was a man with a demons appearance saying the beast was very much alive and living in the forest.

Cold dread flooded his heart.

The disappearances, the mutilated animals, was that the demons doing? It's revenge?

Rage bubbled up from within his frail chest, he had grown children with their own babes. What if it was to attack? His children would be at risk, and what of his grandchildren? They were fond of playing down near the borders of the forest. Would they be next?

No.

They had let the beast be for too long, death was the only way to insure the village's safety.

* * *

Arthur stood in the open doorway glaring daggers into the darkness a frown marring his features.

He was worried. Where was Gilbert?

That arrogant idiot had yet to return and it was fast approaching the witching hour, Arthur's nerves were shot. Watching as his breath created small mists in the frigid air he sighed and deepened his glower.

It was too cold to stand there shivering, he swung his eyes towards his nice warm bed, aching to curl up under the covers and furs and just sleep.

Uttering angrily under his breath he turned, pushing the door closed and wandered over to the bunk, jerkily he grabbed a warm throw and draped it over his shoulders moving to sit in the uncomfortable wooden chair at his creaky table.

Sighing loudly he waited.

* * *

Review?

Thanks


End file.
